[The] complaint and lamentation of Mistresse Arden of
[Fev]ersham in Kent, who for the love of one Mosbie, hired certaine Ruffians
[a]nd Villaines most cruelly to murder her Husband; with the fatall end of her and her
Associats. To the tune of, Fortune my Foe.
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AY me, vile wretch, that ever I was borne,
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Making my selfe unto the world a scorne:
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And to my friends and kindred all a shame,
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Blotting their blood by my unhappy name.
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Unto a Gentleman of wealth and fame,
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(One Master Arden, he was calld by name)
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I wedded was with joy and great content,
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Living at Feversham in famous Kent.
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In love we livd, and great tranquility,
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Untill I came in Mosb[i]es company,
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Whose sugred tongue, good shape, and lovely looke,
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Soone won my heart, and Ardens love forsooke.
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And living thus in foule adultery,
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Bred in my husband cause of jealousie,
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And lest the world our actions should bewray,
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Wee did consent to take his life away.
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To London faire my Husband was to ride,
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But ere he went I poyson did provide,
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Got of a Painter which I promised
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That Mosbies sister Susan he should wed.
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Into his Broth I then did put the same,
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He likt it not when to the boord it came,
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Saying, Theres something in it is not so[un]d,
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At which inragd, I flung it on the ground.
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Yet ere he went, his man I did conjure,
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Ere they came home, to make his Master sure,
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And murder him, and for his faith and paine,
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Susan, and store of gold that he should gaine.
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Yet I misdoubting Michaels constancy,
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Knowing a Neighbour that was dwelling by,
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Which, to my husband bore no great good will,
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Sought to incense him his deare blood to spill.
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His name was Greene; O Master Green (quoth I)
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My husband to you hath done injury,
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For which I sorry am with all my heart,
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And how he wrongeth me I will impart.
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He keepes abroad most wicked company,
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With whores and queanes, and bad society;
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When he comes home, he beats me sides and head,
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That I doe wish that one of us were dead.
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And now to London he is rid to roare,
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I would that I might never see him more:
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Greene then incenst, did vow to be my friend,
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And of his life he soone would make an end.
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O Master Greene, said I, the dangers great,
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You must be circumspect to doe this feat;
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To act the deed your selfe there is no need,
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But hire some villaines, they will doe the deed.
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Ten pounds Ile give them to attempt this thing,
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And twenty more when certaine newes they bring,
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That he is dead, besides Ile be your friend,
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In honest courtesie till life doth end.
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Greene vowd to doe it; then away he went,
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And met two Villaines, that did use in Kent
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To rob and murder upon Shooters hill,
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The one calld Shakebag, tother namd Black Will.
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Two such like Villaines Hell did never hatch,
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For twenty Angels they made up the match,
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And forty more when they had done the deed,
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Which made them sweare, theyd do it with al speed
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Then up to London presently they hye,
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Where Master Arden in Pauls Church they spy,
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And waiting for his comming forth that night,
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By a strange chance of him they then lost sight.
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For where these Villaines stood & made their stop
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A Prentice he was shutting up his shop,
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The window falling, light on Blacke-Wills head,
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And broke it soundly, that apace it bled.
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Where straight he made a brabble and a coyle,
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And my sweet Arden he past by the while;
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They missing him, another plot did lay,
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And meeting Michael, thus to him they say:
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Thou knowst that we must packe thy Master hence
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Therefore consent and further our pretence,
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At night when as your Master goes to bed,
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Leave ope the doores, he shall be murthered.
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And so he did, yet Arden could not sleepe,
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Strange dreames and visions in his senses creepe,
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He dreamt the doores were ope, & Villaines came,
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To murder him, and twas the very same.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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HE rose and shut the doore, his man he blames,
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which cunningly he strait this answer frames;
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I was so sleepy, that I did forget
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To locke the doores, I pray you pardon it.
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Next day these Ruffians met this man againe,
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Who the whole story to them did explaine,
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My master will in towne no longer stay,
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To morrow you may meete him on the way.
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Next day his businesse being finished,
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He did take horse, and homeward then he rid,
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And as he rid, it was his hap as then,
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To overtake Lord Cheiney and his men.
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With salutations they each other greet,
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I am full glad your Honour for to meet,
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Arden did say; then did the Lord reply,
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Sir, I am glad of your good company.
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And being that we homeward are to ride,
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I have a suite that must not be denide,
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That at my house youle sup, and lodge also,
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To Feversham this night you must not goe.
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Then Arden answered with this courteous speech,
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Your Honours pardon now I doe beseech,
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I made a vow, if God did give me life,
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To sup and lodge with Alice my loving wife.
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Well, said my Lord, your oath hath got the day,
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To morrow come and dine with me, I pray.
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Ile wait upon your Honour then (said he)
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And safe he went amongst this company.
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On Raymon-Downe, as they did passe this way,
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Black-will, and Shakebag they in ambush lay,
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But durst not touch him, cause of the great traine
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That my Lord had: thus were they crost againe.
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With horrid oathes these Ruffians gan to sweare,
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They stampe and curst, and tore their locks of haire
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Saying, some Angell surely him did keepe.
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Yet vowd to murther him ere they did sleepe.
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Now all this while my husband was away,
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Mosby and I did revell night and day;
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And Susan, which my waiting maiden was,
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My Loves owne sister, knew how all did passe.
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But when I saw my Arden was not dead,
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I welcomd him, but with a heavy head:
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To bed he went, and slept secure from harmes,
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But I did wish my Mosby in my armes.
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Yet ere he slept, he told me he must goe
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To dinner to my Lords, heed have it so;
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And that same night Blacke-will did send me word,
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What lucke bad fortune did to them offord.
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I sent him word, that he next day would dine
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At the Lord Cheinies, and would rise betime,
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And on the way their purpose might fulfill,
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Well, Ile reward you, when that you him kill.
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Next morne betimes, before the breake of day,
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To take him napping then they tooke their way;
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But such a mist and fog there did arise,
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They could not see although they had foure eyes.
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Thus Arden scapd these villaines where [?]
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And yet they heard his horse goe by that way,
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I thinke (said Will) some Spirit is his friend,
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Come life or death, I vow to see his end.
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Then to my house they strait did take their way,
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Telling me how they missed of their pray;
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Then presently, we did together gree,
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At night at home that he should murdered be.
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Mosby and I, and all, our plot thus lay,
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That he at Tables should with Arden play,
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Black-will, and Sakebag they themselves should hide
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Untill that Mosby he a watchword cride.
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The word was this whereon we did agree,
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Now (Master Arden) I have taken ye:
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Woe to that word, and woe unto us all,
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Which bred confusion and our sudden fall.
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When he came home, most welcome him I made,
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And Judas like I kist whom I betraide,
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Mosby and he together went to play,
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For I on purpose did the tables lay.
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And as they plaid, the word was straightway spoke,
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Blacke-Will and Sakebag out the corner broke,
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And with a Towell backwards puld him downe,
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which made me think they now my joyes did crowne
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With swords and knives they stabd him to the heart
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Mosby and I did likewise act our part,
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And then his body straight we did convey
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Behind the Abbey in the field he lay.
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And then by Justice we were straight condemnd,
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Each of us came unto a shamelesse end,
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For God our secret dealings soone did spy,
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And brought to light our shamefull villany.
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Thus have you heard of Ardens tragedy,
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It rests to shew you how the rest did die:
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His wife at Canterbury she was burnt,
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And all her flesh and bones to ashes turnd.
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Mosby and his faire Sister, they were brought
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To London for the trespasse they had wrought,
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In Smithfield on a gibbet they did die.
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A just reward for all their villanie,
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Michael and Bradshaw, which a Goldsmith was,
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That knew of letters which from them did passe,
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At Feversham were hanged both in chaines,
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And well rewarded for their faithfull paines.
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The painter fled none knowes how he did speed,
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Sakebag in Southwarke he to death did bleed,
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For as he thought to scape and ran away,
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He suddenly was murdered in a fray.
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In Kent at Osbridge, Greene did suffer death,
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Hangd on a gibbet he did lose his breath:
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Blacke-Will at Flushing on a stage did burne,
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Thus each one came unto his end by turne.
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And thus my story I conclude and end,
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Praying the Lord that he his grace will send
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Upon us all, and keepe us all from ill,
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Amen say all, ift be thy blessed will.
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